


Safe In My Arms

by monkeywand



Category: Castle
Genre: Character Death, Comfort, Future Fic, Gen, Hurt, POV First Person, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkeywand/pseuds/monkeywand
Summary: How do you say goodbye to the one you love? How do you tell your child that their father's not coming back?





	Safe In My Arms

**Author's Note:**

> _Castles they might crumble_   
>  _Dreams may not come true_   
>  _But you are never all alone_   
>  _Because I will always_   
>  _Always love you_
> 
> _Clouds will rage in_  
>  _Storms will race in_  
>  _But you will be safe in my arms_  
>  _Rains will pour down_  
>  _Waves will crash all around_  
>  _But you will be safe in my arms_  
>  \- In My Arms by Plumb

You giggle as the sprinkler sprays you with water. Ollie, the golden retriever puppy you begged your father for dances under the falling water with you. From the moment you could move, you have been on the go. You never learned to walk, but were determined to run instead. Much like your father, you can never stay in once place long enough. Butterfly is his nickname for you. Always flitting about here and there. My biggest fear is that your big heart will also be your weakness. I want to shadow you away from the horrors of the world, but now it has become too late. And I don't know how to break it to you. I put on a brave face and step out from my hiding place.

"Baby, can you come here a minute?"

"Okay, mama," you shout, pulling Ollie along with you. Stopping before me, you climb into my lap as Ollie collapses at our feet. I do not mind that you are soaking wet, and that these are new pants. Nothing matters more than the bombshell I am about to drop on your young life.

"Why are you sad, mama?" you ask, wiping away one of the tears I seem to have missed.

"Mama got some bad news today, baby. Daddy," I choke, "Daddy got hurt coming back from the shops. He's not coming back."

"Where'd he go, mama?" you ask, your brow furrowing, confused, yet so innocent.

"He died, baby. And now he's gone to visit mama's mama in heaven." Your face falls as realization sets in.

"He's not coming back?" I shake my head, not trusting my voice. "I miss him already, mama. Who's going to make me butterfly pancakes now?" Your tears fall softly as you sniffle and bury yourself deeper into my embrace. Ollie, knowing something is wrong, howls sorrowfully.

"Oh, baby," I cry, holding you tight. We rock back and forth, lost in our own world of hurt.

* * *

"Mama," you say, stopping me from reading the story.

"Yes, baby?" I say, running my hand through your silky locks.

"When's daddy coming home?" You look at me with bright blue eyes. You may be a spitting image of me, but your eyes and your heart are completely him.

"Oh, baby. Come here." I sit on your bed, leaning against the headrest. You climb into my embrace, one thumb in your mouth. Usually I would pull your hand away, but tonight I haven't the heart to.

"Do you remember what I said earlier?"

"That daddy's gone away to visit Grammy Jo in heaven an' that he's gonna be gone a long, long, long, time." You grin at me, proud to have remembered. I smile weakly.

"Mama, what's heaven and why can't we visit?"

"Heaven is for people who have died, honey. It's also the place where the people we love watch over us. We can't visit 'cause we have to be dead too."

"Oh." Your fingers sneak their way up to my throat where the locket he gave to me rests.

"Why did daddy have to die, mama?"

"Because a bad man took him from us. But that bad man is gone now, okay? So he can't hurt us." You nod, snuggling further into my arms. Silence falls, and I realize you have fallen asleep. I want nothing more that to keep you in my arms, but know it is better if you slept in your own bed. Gently, I place the covers over your small body, placing a kiss on top of your head.

"Mama, I don't want you to die," you mumble, forcing tired eyes open. My heart breaks.

"I promise I'm not leaving any time soon, okay? I love you."

"Love you too, mama." Within seconds you are asleep again.

"Sleep tight, butterfly." I whisper, as the tears begin to fall.

* * *

The photo album lays open in your lap, its pages filled with pictures the three of us together. But you are not looking at the pages, but instead one you've pulled free of its bindings. A quick glance reveals you on top of his shoulders. I remember that moment fondly.

It was the last day of our family vacation. We'd stopped for ice cream on the way back home, and decided to take a walk around the park we found. He'd pulled you up onto his shoulders so you could see the world better. I wanted him to be careful but he just waved me away with his carefree grin and said you would always be his little butterfly. That photo I took moments before you dropped your ice cream all over his head. We were all laughing so hard, I'm pretty sure the people who passed us must have thought we were crazy.

When we got home, just before bed, you had declared that day to be the best ever. Then proceeded to laugh at the ice cream that had dripped into his hair. Of course, this had begun a pillow fight that lasted way past your bedtime. Only when you yawned did he score his victory shot.

That night you went to bed with a big grin on your face. That was the last time you ever did. For he was killed the very next day.

* * *

"Mama," you whisper softly, tugging on my sleeve. I lean in closer, my attention focus solely on you.

"What's the matter, baby?"

"I wanna say something about daddy," you reply, determination written all over your face. At just four years old, you are one of the most brightest and most perceptive children I know. And the past week seems to have made you grow up even more. I do not care that it may be unethical to a let a young child speak a funeral, but I know this is you chance to say goodbye. I nod, and hold out my hand to you. You grip it with your small one and walk with me to the front of the crowd.

"Excuse me," I announce, "Someone has something to say." I step to the side to allow you to speak.

"My daddy," you start softly, then find your voice. "My daddy died the other day. Mama said the bad man hurt him. I didn't get to say goodbye. But she says now I can. Daddy always said I would be safe in his arms, that when I am with him, the world can't hurt me. I just hope that the people up in heaven will keep him safe for me, until I can see him again. I miss you daddy, and I wish you never had to leave. Goodbye daddy. I love you forever." By the time you have finished talking, if there once was a dry eye in crowd, there is no longer. Tears stream down both our faces as I gather you into my arms. Your sister and grandma stand beside us, each hurting too.

"I love you, you know that?" You nod and sob into my chest. We stay this way until the crowd dissipates, leaving just four of us at his grave. I set you down as your sister and grandma place their roses upon the cherry wood of his casket. You blow a kiss and wave your flower over his grave.

"I waving my butterfly magic to keep him safe, mama." I choke back a sob, and weave one arm around your shoulders.

"Goodbye, my love," I whisper, throwing my rose down to join the others. You glance up at me, and I flash you a weak smile. You pat my hand softly.

"It's okay, mama. Daddy's looking out for us from heaven. I felt his hug." I nod and cannot argue, for I can feel his arms around me too. And I know, at the moment, we are safe in his arms.


End file.
